


Dinner and Diatribes

by ChromeHoplite



Series: Rum on Fire [1]
Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Adult Ciel Phantomhive, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Sex, Ciel's 24th birthday, Demon Sebastian Michaelis, Inspired by a Hozier Song, M/M, Mind Control, Public Sex, Sex on a table, Song: Dinner and Diatribes (Hozier), Tentacle Sex, Voyeurism, sorry not sorry lizzie!, tendril sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-27
Updated: 2019-05-27
Packaged: 2020-03-20 02:33:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18983431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChromeHoplite/pseuds/ChromeHoplite
Summary: Day 1: Ciel's twenty-fourth birthday celebration is a tedious affair. With the help of a birthday wish and an able butler,  the earl makes it a memorable one.





	Dinner and Diatribes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [m_aruka](https://archiveofourown.org/users/m_aruka/gifts), [teasmudge](https://archiveofourown.org/users/teasmudge/gifts).



> This series is indicative of the inspiration I've drawn from Hozier's music. It's absolutely mesmerizing, with the likeness of utmost sweven. But so are the works of the individuals to whom all seven of the following one-shots are dedicated. Thank you for continually inspiring me with your art, @m-illustr & @teasmudge! 
> 
> Enjoy this piece by listening [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HlLx7oE7q3I).

~*~

_Honey, this club here is stuck up_  
Dinner and diatribes  
I knew it from the first look of  
The look of mischief in your eyes  
Your friends are a fate that befell me  
Head is the talking type  
I'd suffer Hell if you'd tell me  
What you'd do to me tonight 

~*~

The rectangular table set for thirteen seemed much longer than it actually was. The din of each stuck up aristocrat engaged in conversation counted for ten. Their infernal chatter burrowed under his skin, through his pores, through his ears, and through his mouth by the air he breathed. It filtered into his bloodstream and spreading his ennui with every tedious beat of his heart.

He had told the butler he did not care to celebrate his twenty-fourth birthday, not with the expiry of their contract looming ever closer. Naturally, Sebastian had obeyed, but he was not responsible for Miss Elizabeth and her head full of fanciful affairs. She sat there, next to her betrothed discussing nonsense with the wife of a newly appointed baron, while the earl feigned interest, and picked at his mitigated beef wellington.

Eighteen times, he had craned his neck and squinted to count the minutes that had elapsed upon the grandfather which sat on the mantle. Eighteen times, he sank back into his armchair with less enthusiasm than the one preceding. 

Finally, the clock struck ten and a large strawberry, two-tiered gateau was wheeled out by the butler. It was adorned with the most ridiculously feminized rosettes, and forest fruits drizzled with a syrupy ganache. Ciel’s brows rose when it was placed before him, not out of interest of course, it had hardly been prepared for him given its flavour and decor, but more as a sign that the soiree would be coming to an end. 

“Blow out your candles, Ciel!” Elizabeth squealed, clapping her hands together as Sebastian strode the length of the room to the elaborate oak buffet to fetch dessert plates. From where he stood, across the head of the table, he could scarcely see his master’s head behind the cake. Therefore, it was no surprise when the earl got to his feet to fulfill Elizabeth’s will. “Don’t forget to make a wish,” she told him as he breathed in deeply. 

Ciel’s eyes, dangerous and full of mischief, fell on Sebastian as the flames swayed, dancing, clinging to their wicks and taking on a variety of bewitched shapes. Their shadows cast vulgarly over the wall, depicting beasts in obscenely crude positions, thrashing against one another. 

Dutifully, Sebastian placed a hand over the falsehood of his heart and bowed his head, “As you wish, my lord.” 

One after the other, the earl’s guests were muted, suddenly overcome by an unseen force. Sleep found three of them resting their heads upon the table, snoring lightly. Four of them sat stalk still, eyes glazed over by the bleak of glossy nothingness. Another four moved to the corners of the room, dragging their feet to face the walls, hands pressed over their ears. The last guest, Miss Elizabeth, walked out of the opulent dining room, her face one of impassive oblivion.

Ciel’s eyes followed the bounce of her flaxen hair around the threshold, and once it had vanished from sight, he scrutinized the cake before him with an intense dislike. One usually reserved for clergymen. It was just as well, this way he had no remorse as he pushed the gaudy confection to the edge of the table and sent it toppling over. It hit the floor with a splattering finality. 

Across the table, a feral smile mirrored his own. Using his seat as a step, the earl hoisted himself up onto the oak surface, and submit to his knees, slackening the chokehold that was his collar. His heart stuttered, and as the candelabra dimmed, so did his eyes dilate; finally, something to look forward to after a long day of mindless socializing and niceties. 

Clumsy fingers migrated from the loosened bow at his neck to the placket of his stiff, burgundy shirt. He huffed, now exasperated, as he pushed the buttons from their holes with studied concentration.

“We’re in no rush, my lord.” Cool embers spread from the hem of the young master’s shirt, in an upward movement, swallowing the garment as if it had been part of the five-course meal. Once consumed, it left a smattering of bluish-black soot atop Ciel’s skin, painting him like a [Moonlit Shipwreck at Sea](https://www.thomas-moran.org/thumbnail/159000/159736/mini_normal/Moonlit-Shipwreck-At-Sea.jpg?ts=1459229076).

“Even so,” Ciel mumbled, crawling towards the demon predatorily. His eyes were heavy-lidded with desire and his sweaty palms left marks on the table. “I’m properly hungry now.” 

“Indeed,” Sebastian growled, removing his gloves and setting them to side. The mark on his hand glowed in faint luminosity and anticipation. Something devilish in him stirred, pulsing against the uniform he wore, weaving through the fibers in an attempt to release itself. 

Half-filled goblets and champagne glasses on the table were upset with the feline-like passage of the earl, wetly spilling onto their consumers. Dishes and silverware were hastily discarded and sent crashing to the floor. None of the guests stirred, none bat a single, solitary lash. If they perceived him at all, they made no show of it. 

By the time he reached Sebastian, Ciel’s hands were sticky with the cream and sugar intended for the tea service that would accompany dessert. Face flushed and naked from the waist up except for the silver rings about his nipples and the bow around his neck, the earl sat on his heels and waited diligently, holding his hands out to the devil. 

Sebastian tsked reprovingly, grasping his master snuggly by the wrists. They would break like kindling with any further pressure. He brought them to his face and inhaled the scent; Ciel’s soul was finally ripe: succulent with maturity, incensed with equal parts ruthlessness and resilience. 

But the scent of him was nothing when compared to the palatability of his longing. Not the desire evidenced by the heat rippling from his body, or the palpable carnal tension that spiked the air and settled like sweetened lead on the demon’s flesh; it was Ciel’s acceptance of his fate, his readiness to embrace his own demise that the demon tasted. There was nothing more ambrosial, more alluring than willful submission. 

Sebastian’s mouth caught the tips of his master’s fingers, and his tongue, wet and cold like crisp December air, lapped the saccharine delicacy offered. A wicked glint darkened the abyss of his gaze as Ciel gave a wanton shiver. Reverently, the devil raised the young man’s hands over and behind his slated locks and kept them there with a billowed coil of shadow. His lips sought the beating oscillation at his master’s throat and sucked on the nectared flesh, worrying the delicate feeble membrane. His cant hooked claws swept back, gripping his hair and tugging it playfully, feeling a rush of blood against his tongue when Ciel’s pulse raced faster. The silk thread tangled in his fingers and took but a single jerk for it to come undone and flutter to its owner’s lap. 

“Sebastian,” Ciel panted, neck drawn tight and corded, “if I wanted to be tortured, I’d have wished for a night spent in Lizzie’s company. Get on with it.” 

The devil grinned against his master’s skin, “My lord, what an ungentlemanly thing to say about your betrothed. What if she overheard you?” Superficially, Sebastian’s voice remained a sheeny mockery but to one such as his master, with whom he had spent hours, a possessive maliciousness could be detected there. Instead of giving the earl a chance to answer in rhetoric, he pressed him with another instead, settling Ciel’s bottom on the table before him. “I only caught the tenor of your wish, young master. Why don’t you tell me what it is you desire.”

With his arms still bound, Ciel leaned in unsteadily and Sebastian met him, lowering his head to hear the coy, whispered request. His warm, trembling breath tickled the human shell of the devil’s ear, but it was the manner in which the young man went on that made him chuckle. For such a vocal little thing in the bedroom, he’d yet to find the courage to speak his lechery out loud. 

“My lord, I am terribly afraid to inform you that you have misunderstood the tradition,” he interrupted facetiously mid-way through Ciel’s long list of wants. “You do not get a wish per year you have been alive; thus, you must select but one of the demand you have made of me.” 

Ciel pulled back with a fierce scowl etched on his face, mismatched eyes glowing with venomous need. Between his legs, his erection throbbed painfully, pushing against the fabric of his trousers and leaving a dampened spot. The lovely flush that had started at his ears had spread to his neck, and chest and was steadily making its way below his waistband. “Read the yearnings of my soul as only you can, Sebastian. That is not only my wish, but my order.” 

The devil inclined his head, if only slightly, and removed his master’s Humboltd striped pants with inhuman ease. His heeled shoes were miraculously left in place, as were the long stock hitched to his usual garters. 

“As it is likely to be your last wish of that nature, I assure you, that I will execute it flawlessly, my lord,” Sebastian said, and put his contracted hand on the young man’s chest. He pushed him back and watched his expression change from smug satisfaction to momentary shock. 

“I’ll be the judge of that, Sebastian.” A one-sided grin quickly found its way on the earl’s face again as he took his lip between his teeth and arched his back off of the table. His hands, still restrained by the devil’s tendrils over his head, relaxed, and he allowed his long, lean legs to be brought straight up by another pair of inklike coils. They held his ankles together in a partial hogtie and wept their ooze along the back of his naked thighs. 

A bottle of rich, red wine was now in the butler’s hand, uncorked from dinner, and it too spilled like liquid velvet over Ciel’s porcelain skin. Though it should have been room temperature, it was cold, influenced by the devil’s essence. The earl’s head tilted back as Sebastian’s tongue chased the blueish-violet cascade from rear to knee, leaving dark splotchy marks in its stead. The guests were unblinking, their eyes fogged with a million-mile stare. Their heads turned towards them, waiting, unseeing and deaf to their carnality. 

But they felt it. 

Some of their hands had vanished under the table. Those lucky enough to be facing the corners writhed against the walls. 

Ciel too squirmed as his legs were spread in a V, and the devil nipped the tender flesh of his inner thighs, bleeding them with a gentle rake of his razored teeth. The earl hissed when the alcohol made contact and both blood and wine were consumed. 

And this was the way Elizabeth found them upon her return with a darkened bottle of oil she’d no doubt fetched from the kitchen. Ciel stilled, and held his breath, stifling a whimper as the butler mouthed the base of his cock purposefully with sounds of his own to break the earl’s restraint. All the while, the young woman lingered at their side. 

Satisfied by the keening whines his master made, Sebastian came up to look upon the bewitched, impassive face next to him. “Thank you Miss Elizabeth. You may leave it there,” he nodded to the space by her fiance’s exposed hip, “and seat yourself at the end of the table.” 

She curtseyed and followed the devil’s instructions to the letter. 

Oil was spilled and spread over Ciel’s sensitive, twitching hole. He gave a gasped grunt, as one after the other, thin tendrils filled his tight heat, gaping and stretching, working in and out of him at an agonizing pace. His belly flexed, trying to come up to see them, to see himself abused, but he was otherwise pinned to the sweat-stained oak surface. 

“Mmn… Sebastian, fuck me. Let me see.” 

If Ciel thought the coils were there for preparation, he was wrong. They wrapped around the devil’s member in corkscrew fashion, squeezing the blackened muscle so that it bulged in dilated succession. His ass was dragged to the edge of the table, his forehead wrinkled and his teeth clenched as every throbbing swell fit itself inside. Overhead, his hands were fists unto themselves, curling and unfurling until he felt Sebastian's pelvis flush against his own. 

The room was quiet but for the earl's breath forced through his nose. The butler broke the silence, or rather, his tendrils did as they pushed a large silver platter against the button of the demon’s shirt. 

At the sound, Ciel's head came up and he caught the angled reflection of Sebastian sheathed inside of him, filled to the hilt. "M-move," he commanded shakily, licking the dewy perspiration from his lips. 

The order was clear, but lacked conviction for Sebastian's taste. Reluctantly, he drew his hips back slowly and allowed Ciel to come up to his elbows for a better view. Already the muscled rim bordered on red, though not angrily so. It accepted the demon's cock as it always had, greedily, hungrily, like a second mouth demanding to be fed, to suck and devour. 

"I'm… disappointed… Sebastian…" the earl chastised breathily, legs thrown over his demon's shoulders, "I could… easily do this… myself… in the study…"

"I've heard your moans, and your pitiful climaxes, but have you truly ever made yourself scream?" Sebastian teased, gripping his master's hips roughly and impaling him forcefully. 

Ciel wailed, his hair falling in his face, obscuring the sight of their lewd union. "Again!" He cried, heels digging into Sebastian's shoulders. "Har--!"

The devil did not wait. He could taste the ripe aura from inside his master calling for him and he thrust harder than the last time, trying to sample the caustic pleasure-pained light at his core. 

Ciel thrashed on the table, which ground against the floor harshly, cutting into the refined wood. The chairs and their occupants moved in tandem, unbothered, unnoticing. His mouth was slack, unable to form words, tongue too heavy, a thin rope of drool glistening from his mouth. He barely noticed when the tray fell with a clatter or that his knees came upon chest. It was even more difficult to breathe, and moans caught in his throat in choking, echoed sobs. 

Sebastian ate them nonetheless, pushing a tendril into his mouth. He felt the vibrated hint of a plea die on his master’s lips as he fucked him savagely. The onslaught of tempestuous sensation made him ache ravenously; he could no longer fill him enough, wreck him enough, make him cry enough. A week was too long. Seven agonizing days. One hundred and sixty eight painful hours, each of those ten thousand and eighty minutes a torture of the worst kind. He needed the mesmerically petulant thing, and he needed him now, stained from the inside out with the tinge of his oppressive darkness. 

Quite abruptly, without so much as missing an upthrust, he slid beneath his master, butler trousers around his ankles against the floor. He snarled, holding the back of Ciel’s thighs, and fucked hard and raw through the earl’s begging moans. Welcoming the starving void within as the earl melted against him, back to chest. Tendrils bound his master to him, neck, arms, torso, crushing in their constriction. They stroked his weeping cock, swallowing it in the warmth of their shadow and applying a fierce suction to the head. 

Ciel spasmed, head moving side to side in the crook of his butler’s neck, crooning low and sweetly for more. His breathing was rough, shallow, he tightened around Sebastian, convulsing as his fiery heart beat against his back so that the devil felt it as if it were in his own chest.. “Don’t stop… Don’t…” he begged, toes curling, orgasmic bliss already setting in.

He arched uselessly against the butler, bearing down on the rigidity pounding into him, consciousness swimming, vacillating between blinding light and shrouded tenebrosity. He hung on, but only just; prolonging the feeling of absolute power, the potent aphrodisiac that thrilled his every nerve ending as their contract coursed through them both. 

In response his his master's piercing cry and simultaneously viscous release of his desire, Sebastian stiffened, hissing between his canines. He increased his tempo, excited beyond endurance, heard the tremors of his human guise moan, broken and ripping through his throat. His hips pistoned faster, fucking the lucid earl deeper, felt himself grow thicker and harder. He spilled into him in shuddering surges, coaxing the last of his gasping vocalizations as his master's most intimate muscles clenched and relaxed around him like the serrated ridges of a knife. 

When Ciel could be crammed no more with the demon's seed and his belly bloated slightly as a result, the black, sticky substance seeped from his entrance, cock still fully buried, still emptying itself. It trickled over his tightly drawn sac, down his back and onto the devil's body. From there it coated the table, puddling out on either side of them and receding over the edge. 

"Out… out…" Ciel mumbled feebly, feeling full, as if he'd eaten the entirety of the cake presented to him some ten minutes ago. But dessert had never made his soul feel so close to welcomed death. And he felt no shame in admitting as much to himself. 

Sebastian' cock gave their final few spurts, claiming his master's legs and pubis, dissolving into his skin like an unholy brand. 

"Master," he spoke easily, still clinging to his prey, "shall I fetch the chocolate mousse gateau I prepared for today's occasion, in the off chance something happened to the first?" 

"Yes. Do be sure," he groaned, "to blame the maid for the incident... once the livestock comes to."

"Very well. And shall I blame my noble young master for the scent of sex that lingers in the air?" 

Ciel did not miss the threatening tone; the butler meant it, though not fervently. 

"And break Lizzie's heart? Destroy the reputation you so obediently helped me build among this pathetic caste? Have you lost heart Sebastian? Has your hunger already eaten your resolve?" Ciel was relieved he could not look the devil in the eyes, and made no attempt to do so.

He was right. It would ruin him and _that_ was strictly against their contract. The clock chimed twelve behind them, and the devil’s spine beamed outwards, a feral grin against the earl's ear.

"You've six more days, my lord," Sebastian whispered in a tone that belonged to a beast, laughing when it sunk in, "the end is in sight." 

"Yes. I look forward to it, Sebastian."

**Author's Note:**

> As tacky as it is, thank you so much @teasmudge for beta-ing your own gift <3 Love you!  
> Thank you as always to @cimmerianshade for his endless encouraging feedback xo
> 
> Kudos and Comments are so appreciated. 
> 
> Lemme know what your favorite song lyric is or what your favorite Hozier song is for the next installation!


End file.
